


Jeeves and the Uncomfortable Morning

by triedunture



Category: Jeeves & Wooster
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-28
Updated: 2008-06-28
Packaged: 2019-09-05 11:19:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16809589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triedunture/pseuds/triedunture
Summary: Jeeves miscalculates. Bertie and the world stand in collective shock.





	Jeeves and the Uncomfortable Morning

  
  
Title: Jeeves and the Uncomfortable Morning  
Pairing: Jeeves & Wooster  
Rating: R  
Words: 9,500 (golly)  
Beta: The patient, informative, and wonderful [](http://hwshipper.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://hwshipper.livejournal.com/)**hwshipper**  
Warnings: angst, then fluff, and some sexy times. Mentions of het.  
Summary: Jeeves miscalculates. Bertie and the world stand in collective shock.

<><><>

Bertie paused mid-chew and allowed his last bit of toast to fall from his slack fingers onto the breakfast tray. He eyed his valet closely before swallowing with slow care. 'I say,' he said to Jeeves, who was standing at attention at the Wooster bedside, 'did you just say you loved me?'

Jeeves was occupied with looking somewhere in the distance with his hands folded behind his back, much like a royal guard might stand at his post. 'Yes, sir,' he answered.

Bertie scratched a confused finger against his cheek. 'And you mean this not in the familial, uncle-ish sort of way, but as, erm, something else?'

'Correct, sir.' Jeeves continued to maintain his study of the far wall.

'Well,' Bertie said. He twisted his lips in thought and looked down at his decimated breakfast, still sitting on the tray in his lap. 'Well, well, well,' he added as an afterthought.

'While I don't wish to hurry you in your ruminations, sir,' Jeeves said after a moment, 'it would be helpful to ascertain whether you return the sentiment.'

Bertie looked up with an eyebrow that was so wildly cocked, it was in danger of falling from his brow. 'Return the sentiment, Jeeves?' He shook a finger at his faithful servant. 'Now, look, is this some sort of gag designed to pull at the Wooster leg?'

'No, sir,' Jeeves said with nary a twitch of his lips on his marble-like face.

'Not a wheeze to have something entertaining to bung in your club book?'

'Most assuredly not, sir.'

'I only ask because, well, you're just not the type, are you, Jeeves?'

'Sir?'

'Not the type to be flinging your more tender emotions at the young master alongside the kippers and toast, I mean.'

Jeeves shifted slightly on his feet, his head still held high. 'As you say, sir.'

'The fact that I'm not a winsome gal aside, I wouldn't have imagined you could be so matter-of-fact about matters of the heart.' Bertie gestured to his breakfast tray, and Jeeves lifted it as bidden. 'You do realise I'm not a winsome gal, Jeeves?'

To anyone else in the world, Jeeves' face would have been a blank mask, holding no clue as to his thoughts. But Bertie had been living under the same roof with his valet for nearly six years now, and now he could spot the faintest drawing together of the dark brows. Jeeves stood there with the tray balanced on one hand, looking as overcome as Bertie had ever seen him. Which is to say, not much at all.

'I did notice, sir,' he said.

'Well? What's this rum talk, then?' Bertie cried.

Jeeves coughed into his free hand before speaking again. 'It is only after a great deal of thought that I decided to reveal this information to you, sir. I was very near to certain that these feelings might be reciprocated. However--'

Jeeves finally looked down at Bertie then, at Bertie's completely baffled expression, and the brows drew even closer. 'However, I can see I have miscalculated.'

'Yes, well.' Bertie frowned. 'I'm terribly sorry to have to put us through this moment of unpleasantness, Jeeves, but you must know,' he raised his hands palm-up in the air with a shrug, 'as bothersome as some women can be, I am inevitably drawn to toothsome fillies. Not coves.'

'I see, sir.' Jeeves plucked the serviette from the front of Bertie's pyjama shirt and placed it on the tray.

'Now what's this about you being _nearly_ certain? You're never wrong about an individual's psychology.' Bertie jabbed an accusing finger at his manservant. 'How did you arrive at such an erroneous conclusion, Jeeves?'

'I admit to perhaps,' a light cough, 'allowing my imagination to overpower me, sir.'

Bertie scrunched up his nose. 'That doesn't seem to be in the realm of possibility. What facts did you draw on, man?'

Jeeves yanked at the corner of the bedspread, and somewhere in the fabric, a wrinkle died a quick death. 'Forgive me, sir. It was merely your friendly and outgoing personality that I took to be more than it was.' He said this softly, with no hint of shameful blush upon his cheeks, but he still did not look Bertie in the face, even when the young master tried to catch his eye.

'Ah, you mean a toothy grin here and a pat on the arm there? Surely that's not so untoward, is it?'

'By no means, sir. But I have never been employed in such an intimate arrangement, if you will pardon the phrase. I confess that, in this, I was wrong,' Jeeves said gravely. 'If you wish for my immediate resignation--'

'Come, come,' Bertie gasped. 'It's not as bad as all that. Why, I wouldn't give a toss if you fancied chaps or ladies or perhaps some in-between option. You're still the best valet a man can ask for.'

'Thank you, sir.' Jeeves now fastened his gaze on the bedroom rug. 'Nonetheless, though you are exceedingly generous in your acceptance of my--'

Bertie looked up sharply; Jeeves had stopped speaking and seemed unsure of how to proceed. It made Bertie want to end this awful confrontation as quickly as he could, to save Jeeves from this terrible scrutiny.

'You don't have to explain yourself to me, Jeeves.'

Jeeves took a deep breath and continued as if he hadn't heard. 'Though you are exceedingly generous in your acceptance of my nature, sir, perhaps you have not considered how my more specific emotions regarding yourself could cause friction in the household. I do not wish to bring you any more discomfort.'

'Jeeves, I don't believe you're capable of bringing me anything but good things, like toast and an afternoon refresher,' Bertie said with a forced laugh. 'What I mean to say is, I would never have guessed at your, erm, feelings before you said something. So I'm certain that we can continue as we always have, and Bertram will not be the least bothered. Agreed?'

'Yes, sir. I will endeavour to keep these emotions firmly in check. It was an error of judgement to mention them in the first place.' Jeeves finally looked up and said as lightly as Jeeves ever said anything, 'You bath has been drawn. I will be tidying in the kitchen if you need me, sir.' And while he didn't actually stumble out of the bedroom, he didn't quite glide either.

Bertie worried his lower lip and thought for a moment. Jeeves? In love? With him? It was enough to bend the mind, that much was sure. Bertie wracked his brain for some clue, some sign in all their years of association that Jeeves was (firstly) an invert and (secondly) head-over-bowler hat for the young master. But he could find none; Jeeves had never spoken of his personal attachments, and Bertie had never asked out of respect for the man's privacy.

What have you been doing, Wooster, Bertie asked himself as he flung back the bedclothes, to entice the eye of such a paragon? With the thought that even paragonal waters run deep, Bertie proceeded to his bath.

<><><><>

The next few days dragged on in a slow-dance version of Hades. Bertie felt he would go mad if it went on much longer. It wasn't that Jeeves was slipping up in the wake of the awkward conversation; on the contrary, Jeeves' performance was as top-notch as it had ever been. All of Bertie's clothes had been mended and organized according to colour and season. All of his shoes had been shined to a high gloss, even the special dancing taps that Bertie had only worn once during the Drones Holiday Extravaganza and Tea. The sitting room furniture had been rearranged into a more pleasing set-up, and the door hinges had all been oiled. Even the drawer to Bertie's writing desk, the one that always stuck, had been fixed by a phantom hand while Bertie wasn't watching.

The homestead itself had never looked better. Jeeves, though, was a different matter.

Though his head still bulged in the back while he shimmered from task to task, Jeeves now at less than full strength. It was difficult for Bertie to put his finger on what exactly had changed;there were no egregious cracks in Jeeves' stuffed-frog facade. But it just seemed that Jeeves was, well, not his usual cheerful self. Of course, Jeeves had never been the type to light up a gasper and laugh aloud at a good joke, but there had always been a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth when Bertie had done something particularly entertaining. There had always been that light of laughter in his eyes when Bertie shared stories of his antics. And Jeeves had always taken obvious pleasure in things like his books and his daily chores. But now, that molecule of a smile was gone; the light in his eyes had died out; he no longer carried an air of satisfaction in his orbit. It was a dejected valet indeed that wandered about the flat. Perhaps no one else could see it, but Bertie noticed.

One Friday not long after The Uncomfortable Morning, Bertie found Jeeves in the kitchen. The man appeared to be unscrewing the doors of the cabinets and cleaning them thoroughly before putting them back.

'I say,' Bertie said, 'are you unscrewing the cabinet doors to clean them thoroughly before putting them back, Jeeves?'

'Yes, sir,' Jeeves answered, finishing up with a hinge before turning to face Bertie. 'I discovered a thin film of dust had gathered in the nooks where the doors meet the cabinet, so I've decided to remedy the situation. Did you require anything, sir?'

'No. Erm, I mean, tonight's your evening off, isn't it, Jeeves?' Bertie clacked his fists together nervously. 'Got any plans for the night? Painting the metrop. any shade of crimson?'

'No, sir.' Jeeves turned back to his task of unhinging the last door. 'Is there something you wish me to attend to?'

'No, no. Just wondered if you had something relaxing in store. You've been awfully...busy as of late.' Bertie looked round the kitchen, which was sparkling in an unnaturally clean way.

'I have had much to occupy my time, sir,' Jeeves returned. 'I believe when I am finished with this,' he wiped down the newly liberated cabinet door with a damp cloth, 'I will retire.'

Bertie took his pocket watch from his waistcoat and squinted at the dial. 'It's only seven, Jeeves.'

'I am very tired, sir.' Jeeves replaced the door with steely efficiency and then wiped his hands on a dishtowel. 'I shall be in my quarters if anything arises which requires my attention.' And he glided out on his soundless feet.

Bertie wandered through the flat, pouring himself a snifter and tickling the ivories a little. But there was something off in the way the piano sung out 'I'm Sittin' Pretty in a Pretty Little City' that night. As hard as he tried, Bertie just couldn't get his voice to belt out the chorus with all the pep that was called for. He finally gave up and sipped his brandy, thinking of Jeeves, sitting alone in his room just a few walls away.

Bertie had once kept birds as a boy. A sweet pair of songbirds, all yellow-crested and cheery. He couldn't recall what sort of birds they were, exactly; a type of finch, maybe. He'd named them Tinkle and Tinker. Here's why Bertie was suddenly thinking of these two childhood pets: Tinkle had unexpectedly passed on to birdie heaven one day, and though Tinker had seemed perfectly healthy, he'd refused to eat any seed and died soon after. 'Sometimes one half of a pair can't go it alone,' his mother had told him gently. Bertie wondered if this was how it was with Jeeves; would he go off his feed and slowly wither away?

There was an uncharacteristic spike of anger deep in his chest. Why in the world had Jeeves chosen _him_ , he wondered. Didn't the man have enough sense to fall for someone who could return his affections? Someone bright and charming and not silly and frivolous. Someone Jeeves could talk to about Spinoza and Shakespeare. It was such a waste, Bertie mused, that Jeeves should go through all this hurt for someone like Bertie, who was all wrong for him in so, so many ways.

He had another thoughtful swallow of brandy. If only there wasn't the whole question of Jeeves' male-ness, Bertie thought, some succour might be swung in his direction. Of course, it wasn't unheard of for those sorts of things to go on in the dormitories at school; Bertie hadn't been blind, after all. But he'd never participated in the games with the other boys in the dark. It didn't seem right, in Bertie's opinion, to go round kissing someone without love (even if it was just idiotic, blinded love) entering into the equation. One might call Bertram W. Wooster an old-fashioned goat, but he stuck to his principles.

The point of this train of thought was simply that, if Jeeves had been a girl, that would change things. Bertie liked Jeeves plenty; he considered him a friend and confidant. If it had been a Miss Jeeves approaching with declarations of tender feelings, well, there were worse women to get hitched to. Then again, if Jeeves were a girl, he wouldn't be _Jeeves_. So perhaps it was a futile exercise.

But dash it, if Jeeves was a friend then he deserved Bertie's help, Miss or no. At the very least, Jeeves didn't need to be wallowing alone in his room on his free evening! Bertie set his glass on the sidebar and strode to the door of Jeeves' lair, resolved to extend a hand in friendship to the man before he ended up unmoving at the bottom of the birdcage.

Bertie raised a resolute fist to knock at the door, but paused for a moment. He didn't want to disturb Jeeves if he was asleep; he pressed his ear to the glossy wood of the door, but he could hear nothing. Relieved that there was no snoring or (God forbid) sobbing going on, Bertie gave the wood a light-hearted rap.

'Sir?' Jeeves' voice floated through.

'May I come in, Jeeves?' Bertie called.

There was the barest hint of a pause before Jeeves answered, 'Of course, sir. It's unlocked.'

Bertie pushed on through and found Jeeves sitting propped against the iron headboard of his still-made bed. He had removed his shoes and tails, and his tie was loosened at his throat to reveal one undone shirt button. He held a slim volume in his hand. A gasper was turning into a long line of white dust in an ash-tray on the night table.

'How can I be of service, sir?' Jeeves asked, carefully marking his page with a slip of paper and moving to rise.

'Oh, no. At ease, Jeeves. Just, erm, what's that you're reading?' Bertie gestured expansively to the book. Reading material was a friendly topic of conversation, after all. A good place to begin.

Jeeves slammed the book in his night table's drawer with surprising speed. 'Nothing of consequence, sir. Merely some diverting prose before bed.'

'Ah.' Bertie rocked on the balls of his feet and licked at his lips. 'Don't suppose it's anything I might recognise? More Spinoza perhaps?'

Jeeves adjusted his shirt cuffs, though they were already crisp and straight. 'Very nearly, sir.'

'Well. Well, I don't mean to interrupt your evening and all, but--' Bertie suddenly felt very strange standing while Jeeves was sitting, so he leaned a hip on the nearby dressing table and crossed his arms over his chest. 'Usually you use your nights off to visit your club or, I don't know, play darts, what?'

Jeeves breathed in deeply through his nose. 'If my continued presence in the home is distasteful, sir--'

'What? No! No, I'm not trying to toss you out on the street, Jeeves. I'm just concerned; you haven't had a decent break in some time.' Bertie gave a faint shrug.

Jeeves finally fastened his gaze on Bertie and not his cuffs. 'I will leave if you tell me to go, sir.'

Bertie's face scrunched up the way it did when things went sour. 'Listen here, Jeeves. I'm not planning on handing you your walking papers at any point in the future. But you just seem so bally miserable.' He sat at the foot of the bed, hating the way the dresser dug into his hip. 'Isn't there anything I can do?'

'No, sir. You have been nothing but accommodating in this unfortunate situation.' He shook his head. 'I should never have said what I did to you, sir. It was most ill-advised.'

'I'm just afraid we'll never be able to reach the friendly old state we used to inhabit.' Bertie sighed and dragged a hand through his ruffled hair. 'You do trust me, don't you, Jeeves? I'd never use this against you. I would never turn you over to the police. I know I'm a loony at times, but I can keep your secret, I promise.'

Jeeves looked off into a corner. 'It gratifies me to hear it from your own lips, sir. I admit to a certain amount of anxiety. And I, too, wish we could return to the status quo.' Jeeves tapped a finger against his lips, a gesture that meant he was in deep concentration. 'Here, sir.' He opened the night table drawer and handed over the small book he'd been reading.

Bertie looked at the cover with bulging eyes. 'Georgette Heyer? Jeeves, were you seriously reading this?' He flipped through the book with a laugh. 'I thought you only ran the eyeballs over philosophy and poetry and such. This is a soppy romance!'

'You already know my worst secret, sir,' Jeeves said with a faint hint of an iota of a smile at the corner of his mouth. 'Reading Heyer is but a close second.'

Bertie grinned broadly. 'Your gesture of trust will not go amiss. I am honoured to be among the people that know Jeeves, the Heyer devotee.'

'It is a very small group, sir.' And there was a shadow of a sparkle in his eye.

'Jolly good!' Bertie laughed and examined the gilt-scripted cover once more. 'If only I could tell the chaps at the Drones. I'd win a hefty sum on a bet like that. Can you imagine how many of them would lose their shirts on it?'

Jeeves nodded indulgently. 'The young gentlemen would doubtlessly be out in the metaphorical cold, sir.'

They shared a chuckle then. Well, as much of a chuckle as Jeeves ever shared. Which wasn't much, but it had a certain there-ness. Bertie calmed himself and cocked his head to the side in contemplation, listening to the faint rumble of it. 'Is this why you feel for me like you do, Jeeves?' Bertie gestured between the two of them, his hand waving over the short distance of the thin mattress. 'Is it because, well, is it because I make you laugh? In a way?'

Jeeves' face passed back into its seamless mask, and Bertie could have kicked himself for ruining the lightened atmosphere. Jeeves reached out, took the Heyer novel from Bertie's hands, and installed it on the night table before answering. 'I cannot say why my heart has fastened itself to you, sir. If I knew, then perhaps I could undo the knot that holds it in place. But there is no drop of logic in this, no sensible path to a satisfactory answer.'

'You would really do that if you could?' Bertie balked. 'Undo the thingummy of love?'

'Yes, sir,' Jeeves said softly. 'Though I am thankful for your patient understanding, it is still...' And here Jeeves trailed off, drawing his brows together as if gathering all his massive brain power to find the correct words.

'It hurts,' Bertie supplied, watching his face carefully. 'It pains you.'

'Yes,' Jeeves said. 'Yes, it does.'

Bertie chewed at his lower lip and fidgeted with his hands. 'I'm sure this will blow over, Jeeves. You'll find another, more worthy subject for the tender pash. If you'd like, I could make some discreet inquiries, find out where a suitable suitor might be hanging about. There must be a club or something, what?'

Jeeves gave a firm shake of his head. 'No, sir. I do not wish to involve you in such a dangerous endeavour.' He wrapped his shirtsleeved arms round his own middle as if a chill had gone through his frame.

'But Jeeves,' Bertie said, 'aren't you lonely?'

Jeeves busied himself with crushing out the unsmoked cigarette in the ash-tray. 'Thank you for your concern, sir, but I'd rather we didn't discuss this any further.' Looking to his left like that, Jeeves gave Bertie a perfect view of his profile. While not as striking and sharp-edged as, say, Florence Craye's, Jeeves' profile was rather pleasing if Bertie cared to look. The soft hill of his regal chin flowed into a nicely formed lower lip, which met the upper one as is normal. And the small divot beneath his nose (the crookedness of which delighted Bertie to no end), these were all very well and good. Bertie sighed.

'I'm only worried about you, Jeeves. I wish there was something I could do to lift this burden from you.' Bertie clutched at his own chest through his layers of waistcoat and shirt.

Jeeves placed his fingertips at his temples and rubbed them in a circular motion, his eyes sliding shut. 'We're speaking in circles, sir. I am sorry, but there's nothing to be done about it.'

'You're right, I suppose.' Bertie pursed his lips. 'Well, I should toddle off to catch the forty w.'s, what?' Bertie got up from the bed, and Jeeves stood smoothly to open the door for him. As the valet leaned forward to pull the door open, Bertie saw just how his back curled into an S shape, tapering at narrow hips. The waistcoat and shirtsleeves: they revealed things that the morning coat always hid.

'Good night, sir,' Jeeves said. 'Thank you for putting my mind at ease. I'm sure all will, as you say, blow over in the near future.'

'Of course, Jeeves. Well, toodle pip.' Bertie took a step out the door, but paused and spun back into the room, his hair flapping in the breeze created by his indecision. 'Jeeves, would you like to kiss me?' he asked.

If anything, Jeeves was even more pale than was his usual wont. That is to say, like a bally sheet. 'Sir?'

'You know. Kiss. Cash. Neck. Open the bank for business. The labial press. The--'

'Yes, sir, I did hear you.' Jeeves stood very still, his eyes drifting away as if mulling over something. His hand remained on the doorknob, holding the door open for Bertie while Bertie stayed straddling the threshold. It brought them into close range, this pose, and Bertie found himself looking at Jeeves' full mouth, which was about level with his eyeline.

'Is this,' Jeeves said after a moment, 'some sort of test, sir?'

'What do you mean, Jeeves?'

'I assumed you understood that my feelings towards you, sir, include all the usual earmarks of the situation, including the desire for physical,' Jeeves raised his eyes to Bertie's and caught him staring, 'exertions.'

'Yes, and?' Bertie said with a touch of haughty head-tossing. It was difficult to recover when one was caught studying a set of lips like that.

'Well, sir,' Jeeves said, 'I _would_ like to kiss you. But I won't, since you would not welcome it.'

'Ah, yes, there is that.' Bertie ran a finger round the inside of his collar; it was getting awfully warm in the small room. 'I just thought, perhaps, that a little kiss might put your mind at ease. Show you just how dashed silly this whole posish is. Help you to get over this entire infatuation.'

Jeeves blinked twice, his eyes lowering with each flutter of lashes. 'I doubt that would be the case, sir.'

'Oh, come now! A small peck and you'll see that Bertram is nothing more than the mentally negligent bird you've been stuck with for years. I'm sure the spell will be broken, and whatever had you convinced of my loveliness will have flown the coop.'

'That may be, sir. But in the event of the opposite occurring, it would be unbearable torture to allow me but one sip from the cup of my deepest desire,' Jeeves murmured, shaking his head from side to side in a slow rhythm. His hand on the doorknob was, while not exactly trembling, not the rock it should have been. 'No, sir. I'd rather not take advantage of your caring nature to satisfy my curiosity.'

Bertie frowned, his brows drawing together in confusion. 'Are you certain? It would be but the work of a moment, and I could just close my eyes and pretend you're a blushing beauty. There can't be much difference between the fairer sex and the merely fair sex when it comes to kisses, can there? Lips are lips. It wouldn't really be any trouble at all.'

'If...' Jeeves' eyes tracked across Bertie's map, and Bertie wondered what he was searching for. 'If you are willing, sir...'

Bertie spread his hands in an accommodating gesture. 'I am.'

Jeeves nodded one, twice, three times, each one slighter more sure than the last. 'Just one kiss,' he said.

'Right.' Bertie stood a little straighter, almost as if he were preparing for a sock in the stomach. 'Well. Let's have it, then.'

Jeeves quirked up lips in a way that pressed them together in a concerned line. 'Perhaps it would be prudent to sit beforehand, sir?'

'What, here?' Bertie looked askance at Jeeves' small bed. 'Whatever for?'

Jeeves coughed lightly into his fist. 'I was only thinking of your comfort, sir.'

'I'm perfectly fine standing.'

'Very good, sir.'

'The present conditions seem good enough.'

'Indeed, sir.'

'Right. Well.'

Jeeves finally took his hand off the doorknob. 'Shall I--'

'Yes, please do, Jeeves,' Bertie said. And Jeeves moved forward.

What first took Bertie off guard was Jeeves' hand. Instead of staying in place at his side, it rested lightly on Bertie's cheek. A jolt of surprise ran through Bertie's frame, but after it wore off, he could feel how large, square and careful that hand was. It cupped his face and held him still with a gentle grip. Then Jeeves' dark eyes looked down at him, and he was standing so close, Bertie was sharing the same pieces of air.

Bertie returned his gaze, tipping his head back slightly to maintain eye contact with the taller man. It seemed as if Jeeves had frozen in place and he would never go through with it. Bertie opened his mouth to reiterate his encouragement, to restate his consent.

'I--'

But that was all he got out. Jeeves leaned down then, not at all hurried, and pressed his lips to Bertie's.

It was about that time that Bertie was disabused of the notion that kissing coves was the same as kissing fillies. It was apples and oranges, he could see that now. For one thing, no girl Bertie had ever puckered up for had the light scrape of nightly stubble on her cheek. No girl had that musky scent of hair oil and cologne that flooded Bertie's nostrils. And no girl, not even the American ones, had ever kissed Bertie with such devastating power and control. Bertie knew his eyes had slid shut, but he couldn't for the life of him conjure up a picture of a lady kissing him like this. It wasn't so awful at all, just frightfully different.

Despite that, there was no plundering, no out-and-out ravishment; Jeeves was too much himself for that. He had joined their lips together with the lightest of touches, the barest nuzzle that turned into a languid exploration. An exchange of brushes between top lips and bottom, from one corner of Bertie's slack mouth to the other. The hand on Bertie's cheek slid into his fair hair, and Jeeves' fingers dug into the curls at the back of his head. He pulled him in deeper, plied him open with assured resolve. Dipped in and took, and gave back with a nibble to Bertie's lower lip.

Bertie tried to lift his hands to grasp Jeeves' shoulders, but his knees wobbled strangely, and he found himself breaking the kiss in order to clutch at the door frame behind his back. A hand flew to his mouth to stifle a gasp, and he felt his lips, swollen and wet, under his fingertips. Breathing as heavily as a breathless thing, Bertie stared up at Jeeves wide-eyed. Jeeves looked no different than usual, of course. Not a hair was out of place, not a flush darkened his skin. His eyes, however, held all the masked hurt that Bertie had ever seen Jeeves display. Which is to say, not much for a normal person. But for Jeeves, it was the equivalent of crying buckets, that solemn gaze. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, and he directed his gaze sharply downwards when it became clear what Bertie could see there.

'Jeeves.' Bertie levered himself into a more vertical position.

Jeeves didn't look up. 'I should not have--' He sucked in a deep breath and squeezed his eyes closed. 'That was completely inappropriate, sir, and I will never be so weak as to give in to your kind-hearted suggestions again.'

'Jeeves,' Bertie said again, and lifted his shaky hands. He bracketed that marble face between his palms and lifted it to lock eyes once more. 'Oh,' Bertie breathed. The swirling emotions hadn't dissipated whatsoever in Jeeves' dark irises. 'Oh, dear. I've made it worse for you,' he said softly. 'I'm so sorry, Jeeves.'

'Please, sir.' Jeeves shook his head like a horse shying from its rider. 'It's not your fault. This is my burden to bear; you shouldn't have the responsibility of ensuring my recovery,' Jeeves said, grasping at Bertie's wrists to pull his hands away. But Bertie felt a surge of strength go through him, and he held on tight.

'But Jeeves, when you are in pain, so am I!' he cried. There was no thunderbolt, no shock at the stinging knowledge, it was all very simple: as soon as Bertie said that, he knew. He was in love, too. Jeeves had been right, as he always was. It had just taken longer than usual for everything to fall into place.

'Sir?' Jeeves voice, while not exactly quavering, wasn't totally steady either. He gentled his hold on Bertie's wrists, and Bertie's hands slid unbidden to Jeeves' shoulders.

There was no earthly reason, in Bertie's opinion, why Jeeves should suffer a moment longer in this unrequited hell. So he leant closer and, with all of his gusto and none of Jeeves' grace, planted a kiss squarely on the man before him. It may not have contained the subtler intimations that Jeeves' kiss had wrought, but it managed to turn bones to jelly in its own way. Bertie smacked his lips to Jeeves' mouth, cheeks, eyelids, and chin over and over, each time from a different angle with a different amount of pressure, a tumultuous assault that even Jeeves was powerless against after a time. When Bertie actually nipped at his valet's wonderfully curved earlobe, Jeeves staggered back a step, and his legs hit the edge of the bed.

'I suppose we should have sat down after all,' Bertie chuckled in Jeeves' ear, and the man shuddered against him in the most delicious way. Bertie grinned against his warm neck and said, 'Can we do that now, Jeeves?'

Jeeves didn't answer, just continued clinging to Bertie's arms as they fell onto the bed. Bertie gave a breathless shout of laughter and allowed himself to bounce on the thin mattress. He looked over at Jeeves, ready to share another chuckle, but Jeeves wasn't having any of it. His face was pure stone, with fewer chuckles than granite.

'What's the matter?' Bertie asked, his smile slipping.

'You don't have to do this, sir.' Jeeves ducked his head; if he'd been wearing his hat, the brim would have completely hidden his eyes. 'If the male holds no interest for you, then--'

'Oh, do catch up, Jeeves!' Bertie flopped on his back, arms over his head in a show of total exasperation. 'So B. Wooster has never considered the possibility of cove-on-cove amour; there are plenty of things I've never considered! The sheer number of thoughts I've never had could sink a ship. But here I am, thinking of one specific valet as a dashed cosy kissing-partner. Do you wish me to toss these thoughts aside, Jeeves?'

'You are not merely attempting to ease me?' Jeeves asked. His hand crept over the now-wrinkled coverlet and brushed against Bertie's side. 'You find the activity...stimulating?'

Bertie sat up suddenly, propping himself up with two hands behind him. 'I'd have to be half-dead to find it un-stimulating! And I, for one, vote for a continuation of said activity.' Here, Bertie stuck his arm in the air as if counting himself in. 'What say you, Jeeves? Yea or nay?'

Jeeves raised his hand and twined it in Bertie's short locks once more. For his part, the young master sighed and closed his eyes, turning his cheek to nuzzle the soft skin of the inside of Jeeves' wrist. His arm fell to curl round Jeeves' waist.

The valet whispered, 'Yea, sir,' and kissed him again. This time, both men could be active participants in the embrace, and Bertie felt Jeeves melding his slow, thoughtful kisses seamlessly with Bertie's fluttering, passionate ones. They traded one, then the other, back and forth until an entirely new sort of kiss evolved: a soft brush of tongues, sliding, finishing with that low smacking sound that Bertie was growing to like quite a bit.

They broke for air, and Bertie leaned forward to do something that had been niggling at him. He pressed a kiss to the hollow of Jeeves' throat, right where the one undone button revealed the smallest patch of heretofore unseen skin. Jeeves tasted delicious, as he suspected. Bertie reached up and tugged at the black tie, wishing to expose more of this delicacy.

Jeeves raised a hand to cover Bertie's, stopping his tie-pulling calmly. 'Sir, what exactly are you proposing?' he asked in that quiet, melodious voice.

Bertie blinked up at him. 'I propose nothing at the moment, except to get this bally tie off your neck.'

'And then, sir?'

'I haven't drawn up a menu or anything, Jeeves. I really have no idea what will be next, but I suspect it will involve less clothing.' And with a winning smile, Bertie gave the tie another tug.

Jeeves clapped Bertie's hands in his, blocking his progress once more. 'This is all rather sudden, don't you agree, sir?' he said in a pleading sort of voice.

Bertie wilted, his hands falling into his lap like a chastised child. 'I was under the impression that these sorts of attentions from the young master would be whole-heartedly welcomed, Jeeves. That's what you said, wasn't it?'

'Yes, sir. Of course I welcome it. But, sir...' Jeeves brushed a hand over Bertie's smooth cheek. 'You have already given me more tonight than I expected in a lifetime. I would be content with this.'

'But there is so much more, Jeeves!' Bertie cried, grasping that gentle hand and squeezing it in his own. His eyes lit up with the thought of all the sorts of things he might do with Jeeves straight away. Though he mightn't have ever participated in such acts before, he was nothing if not imaginative, and the pictures his mind conjured thrilled him to no end. 'Just say the word, and Bertram will be revved and waiting at the kerb.'

Jeeves gave him one of those lifted-eyebrow looks that Bertie had always assumed was condescending, but which now looked almost affectionate. 'Really, sir?' he drawled.

'Certainly! Time to spill the last of it, Jeeves. What would you like to do with me tonight?' Bertie gave his best smouldering look through his eyelashes and kissed the back of Jeeves' hand in a moving picture-star sort of way.

'Well, sir--'

'Yes, Jeeves?' he murmured into the delicious skin.

'I'd like very much,' Jeeves said, 'to hold you while I fall asleep.'

Bertie blinked, his lips still pressed to Jeeves' hand. He whipped his head up suddenly. 'Is that all!?'

Jeeves looked away and, for the first time in the whole strange evening, coloured slightly. His face turned a fetching rosy shade as he murmured, 'It's more than enough for me, sir.'

'Jeeves!' Bertie gasped. 'You speak as if you know nothing of the act of love!'

The blush only intensified. Bertie's mouth hung freely.

'My word!'

'I've been very busy, sir,' Jeeves said stiffly.

'I say.'

'And to be frank, the desire to seek alternative companionship fled when you employed me years ago.'

Bertie whistled, impressed. 'So it was Bertram or nothing for you, old thing? For all this time?'

Jeeves nodded and shut his eyes. 'I suppose I should have prepared for such a contingency, but the possibility seemed so remote...'

'Well.' Bertie mused on this. 'Well, well, well.' He regarded Jeeves very carefully and, just as carefully, reached up to unknot his black tie. The slip of fabric hissed as he pulled it out of the V of Jeeves' waistcoat. The knot melted away with a few tugs, and Bertie draped the tie over the bed's iron foot board.

Jeeves without his tie. Bertie could have stared all night. But there was a menu to prepare, dash it!

'Listen, Jeeves,' he said. 'I may be new to this whole inverted business, but I'll take a crack at it if you're game as well. And if none of it pans out, don't worry; you'll still have an armful of Wooster when you drift off tonight, this I can promise you.'

Jeeves looked up finally, and there was the most astounding amount of gratitude in his gaze. Which is to say, more than anyone else might have been able to convey using just the ocular vehicles. He didn't have to say anything more; Bertie reached for the first button on his black waistcoat and slipped it free from its buttonhole.

'I must say,' Bertie babbled in a self-conscious fashion as he moved to the next button and the next, 'when you told me of your feelings for self the other day, I imagined you had been quite a--' He paused and cocked his head in thought. 'Well, not a ladies' man, obviously. I was going to say a man's man, but that's not quite it either. Well.' Bertie shrugged and carefully slipped the waistcoat from Jeeves' shoulders and down his arms. 'At any rate, I thought you were a prominent figure on love's battlefield. I envisioned it rather clearly.'

'Did you, sir?' Jeeves asked.

Bertie folded the waistcoat over the tie. 'Yes, I saw in the mind's eye what your adventures must be like, when you biff off to your annual vacation or your night off. I thought you might be found carousing with a group of lithesome lads, taking care to choose the right one and so forth.'

Jeeves raised an eyebrow.

'Well, what I'm getting at, Jeeves,' Bertie fingered the silk bands of Jeeves' black braces, 'is that I thought you would have no dearth of suitors.'

'Are you disappointed, sir?' Jeeves asked, touching the pad of his thumb to Bertie's lower lip.

Bertie kissed it without thinking. 'No, Jeeves. I'm not. I'm actually rather,' he hummed to himself in thought, 'relieved. These thoughts always put me in a bit of a sour mood, you see.'

'Could it have been jealousy, sir, creeping upon you before you knew that you could tolerate my affections?' His thumb now rubbed whorls down Bertie's jaw.

'That's the one. The green-eyed whatsit.' Bertie slid the straps of the braces apart, and Jeeves moved his arms through them obediently. Bertie left them dangling from the waistband of the pinstriped trousers. 'And I wouldn't say I "tolerate," Jeeves. Everything you've given to me, I return.'

'Everything, sir?'

'You have all my love, and have for quite some time, though I didn't realise it until tonight,' Bertie said, reaching for the line of shirt studs and leaning forward to brush another kiss to the skin bared by these ministrations.

'Sir...' Jeeves moved to help with the shirt. 'Please, allow me to--'

'I want to do this for you, Jeeves.' Agile pianist's fingers batted Jeeves' hands away. 'You were the one to brave the declarations of the thing; I can at least manage this.' He unfastened Jeeves' cuff-links and set them on the night table.

'It feels strange, having you undress me, sir,' Jeeves said. Bertie looked up and saw his eyes tracking the movements of his hands. He trailed them up Jeeves' chest before taking hold of the rounded collar and parting the open shirt. It slithered off his bare shoulders like a flaky snake's skin being shed, leaving Jeeves in nothing but his vest, trousers with dangling braces, and socks.

'Why do we wear so many bally layers of clothing, I wonder?' Bertie said, bending down to grasp one of Jeeves' ankles.

'Sir?' Jeeves lifted his foot into Bertie's lap with only a smidge of hesitation.

Bertie unhooked the garter and began rolling the black sock down. 'Men, I mean. We're still wearing all these different pieces of clothing, like we can't very well let go of wearing suits of armour. Ever since the toga went out of fashion, men have been adorning themselves with more piles of fabric than seems strictly necessary.' Bertie moved onto the other sock. To reach the garter, he had to reach up the trouser leg nearly to the knee, and he got a good feel of Jeeves' legs in the process: long, muscular, complete with a dusting of curly hair. Not much akin to removing the silk stockings from a fine set of gams, but as with the kissing, not altogether unpleasant. 'I merely wonder.'

'The male form isn't considered the beautiful ideal these days, sir.' Jeeves was still watching him closely, but he seemed to relax with this topic of historical and cultural knowledge. 'The female is the emblem of the latest artistic movement, which was established at the 1900 Universal Exposition among certain artists who--'

Normally, Bertie could have listened to Jeeves expound on expositions for hours, but at the moment, more frisky business was forefront in his thoughts. So with a hint of mischief glinting in his eyes, he rolled up Jeeves' trouser leg as high as it would go and pressed a kiss to his exposed knee. This stopped all talk of female emblems.

'I think this is more than ideal,' Bertie said, his voice quiet against Jeeves' leg as he trailed his mouth down the calf to the ankle. 'Don't you think, Jeeves?'

Jeeves responded with a wordless tug at Bertie's hair, gentle but insistent, and Bertie raised his face to kiss Jeeves properly on the mouth. By unspoken agreement, there was no more speaking: Bertie skimmed his palms under the hem of Jeeves' thin undershirt and pulled it over his head, ruffling his dark hair a bit more than was needed. The braces were left buttoned to their anchors, and the pinstriped trousers joined the shirts in a heap on the floor. Then Jeeves had nothing but his underthings left, and Bertie went after these as well, all the while lavishing attentive kisses on his man.

When his fingertips encountered the elastic band of the undershorts, however, the silent lovemaking ceased, and Jeeves took a sharp breath. 'Perhaps I should extinguish the light, sir?' he asked.

Bertie frowned at him; he'd never heard Jeeves speak that way, in a voice that quavered, quaked, and did all sorts of other queer things. Well, Bertie could sympathise. The first time he'd gotten down to the altogether in front of a girl, he hadn't been keen on knowing exactly what her estimations of the Wooster corpus would be. But what in the world could Jeeves have to worry about? Instead of a bony sternum and noodle-like appendages, Jeeves' body sported the very latest in fit and bronzed masculinity.

A compromise, then. 'Let me just get this one last bit out of the way, and then I can switch it off,' Bertie said with a smirk. He hooked his thumbs under the waistband and flung them far afield. He didn't shout Bravo! or anything, but it was a near thing.

He stood, not only to make good on his promise to hit the light switch, but to have a good look at his handiwork before the lights dimmed. Jeeves was laid out on his little bed, bare, his black hair mussed so strands fell into his eyes. He lifted a hand to brush them away, and otherwise didn't try to hide himself from Bertie's gaze. His visage was proud, as were other parts, and not a blush marred anything. It occurred to Bertie that shyness wasn't the reason Jeeves had asked for the lights off; the man was reclining with abandon.

'Why do we need the lights off, Jeeves?' Bertie finally asked.

Jeeves blinked up at him. 'Is that not the usual practise, sir?' he asked guilelessly.

'I hardly think either of us qualifies as "usual," Jeeves.'

'Nevertheless, sir, I'd rather follow the prescribed steps. For now.' And that earned a splash of rosy hue on Jeeves' damask cheek.

Oh, bless him, Bertie thought. He's doing this for my comfort. 'Right ho, Jeeves,' Bertie said, and flicked the switch. The room was plunged into a thick blackness. It took several moments for the weak light of the one small window to filter in at all. Bertie put his arms out before him, flailing round to find the bed again.

'Marco?' he called.

'Polo, sir,' Jeeves rumbled in return.

Bertie reached out a playful hand and discovered a nicely warm patch of skin. He blindly slid his fingers up and around, finally grasping that this was Jeeves' bicep. Using this as a starting point, he mapped out Jeeves' chest, his ribs, hipbones, the backs of his knees. Just light touches, dreamy fingers moving in the dark. His mouth found Jeeves' shoulder, and he climbed up on the bed on his knees, lording over Jeeves like one would a feast.

'Sir, your clothes--' Jeeves gasped as Bertie suckled at his neck just below the ear. 'Shouldn't you be divested of them as well?'

'Give me a moment,' Bertie said, intent on exploring the body before him. His lips skated down Jeeves' neck to his collarbone, which curved as finely as an ivory-handled spoon. Then there was more of that hollow of the throat to be had; this was very much like a shallow cup. Bertie was in the process of scrabbling for more leverage to drink from it when his hand brushed against Jeeves' chest in a peculiar way.

Up until now, Jeeves had been quiet, his breathing amplified in the small, dark room. But with that one touch, he actually gasped. His arms went around Bertie's still-clothed frame and he arched into him with wanton need.

'I say,' Bertie whispered. It had been an accident, but how strange. He tried it again for scientific purposes, reaching up to flick a fingernail across Jeeves' left nipple.

Not only did he get a repeat performance, but Jeeves also sealed his lips to Bertie's in a searing kiss. He broke it with a murmured 'Again, sir' against his mouth.

In Bertie's experience, this was a sensitive area for the female, of course, but he'd never thought the same applied to the male. He'd never given it a go on himself, at any rate. Perhaps we're more alike than anyone ever thought, Bertie considered. But he couldn't be distracted by these philosophical ideas for long; Jeeves was writhing, and once you've seen that, you don't really want to think of anything else.

Bertie bent down and took the little nub between his teeth, tugging briefly before lapping at it. Jeeves was shivering as if constant chills flowed through him, and his fingers in Bertie's hair twisted with demands and pleas. Bertie took the hint and switched to the other nipple, a worshipful and reverent act. He shifted his weight so he could lay atop of Jeeves, the scratchy wool of his suit playing havoc on the bare skin below.

Their bodies were lined up in such a way that Bertie could clearly feel Jeeves' need digging against his thigh, and his own was rubbing deliciously into Jeeves' hip. It was rather convenient, after a fashion: there wasn't any need for asking _please_ and _now?_ and _ready?_ Bertie had all the answers before him, and you couldn't buy that sort of confidence at any price. Bertie rocked his hips against Jeeves, feeling a trickle of sweat work its way down his jaw.

'It's getting rather warm, don't you think?' Bertie said against Jeeves' neck.

'May I?' Jeeves took hold of Bertie's suit coat and, in the blink of an eye, it was whizzing through the air.

'You're a quick one,' Bertie chuckled as he heard the thing thump to the floor.

'I apologise if this method is not as languorous as you're accustomed to, sir.' Tie, socks, waistcoat, braces, all evaporated from the Wooster form. 'I fear I--' Jeeves pressed his lips to Bertie's neck, licking at his jumping pulse. 'I cannot wait any longer, sir. I thought I could, but I cannot.'

'You hear no complaints from this corner, I may point out.' Bertie squawked as Jeeves palmed his trousers off in one smooth motion. 'I say!'

'I had dreamt of making slow, careful love to you, sir. I had no idea I...that this would cause me to--' Jeeves panted for breath and grasped one of Bertie's petting hands. He pressed it to his chest, where Bertie could feel the wild pounding of the Jeevesian heart. 'I cannot breathe, sir, I cannot think. I only want you.'

Bertie sat back on his heels, straddling Jeeves' hips. He pulled off his shirt and underthings, twisting this way and that to remove everything correctly. Then, when he finally sat atop Jeeves, both of them with not a stitch of clothing between them, he leaned forward to kiss Jeeves just above his heart and said, 'Have me, then.'

Jeeves clutched Bertie to him, and they kissed and pressed against one another, hands wandering, fingernails digging, breaths catching. Bertie couldn't believe how warm Jeeves was; all this time, he'd assumed the man was cold-blooded like the fish that gave him all his brainpower. But no, Jeeves was a different sort of animal when the lights went out, positively thrumming against Bertie.

'I, I need--' Bertie moaned against Jeeves. 'Dash it, I don't know what I need.'

'Here, sir.' Jeeves reached down and took him in hand, and that alone was nearly enough for Bertie. But then, after a few testing touches, Jeeves slid the organ between his clenched thighs, cradling Bertie there in all that warm skin.

'Oh, good Lord,' Bertie sighed, rocking in and out of the tight heat. 'That's marvellous.'

The motion tickled back and forth, and Bertie could feel the soft skin of Jeeves' legs and sac, all enveloping him in the most extraordinary way. It was so distracting that Bertie had almost forgotten about Jeeves' pleasure; the man had to guide his slack hand to his own urgent desire, whereupon Bertie finally clicked. Their skin was damp with sweat, and it made the going easier.

It was difficult to see much in the dark, but Bertie caught glimpses of Jeeves and his miles of skin, his flashing eyes, his open mouth gasping for air, the way he arched his back when Bertie touched him just so. The rocking of their bodies intensified to a primal rutting, and when Jeeves grabbed Bertie's hips to grind him even more forcefully against his own body, Bertie shuddered at the power of it.

'This is more than a Wooster can take,' he panted. 'More than I deserve. Jeeves, oh, Lord.'

'Please,' Jeeves breathed against his cheek, as they were nose-to-nose. 'Please, sir.' His legs tightened, making a vise for Bertie to plunge into one final time before being taken by his release. His body jerked as if electrified, and he spent himself between Jeeves' thighs. It was but the work of a moment to then bend low and add his mouth to the work his hand had been doing.

To say this pleased Jeeves would be a radical understatement. He made a sound not unlike a normal person's groan, dug his hands in Bertie's hair, and went completely still as he was overwhelmed. Bertie drank down the bitter fluid, not because it tasted like anything worth drinking, but because it had come from Jeeves. The proof of what they had done.

When the waves of ecstasy had passed and Jeeves' fingers fell away from his hair, Bertie looked up. Jeeves was a mess: he lay on his bed, which was in shambles, sheets and coverlet skewed this way and that. His hair resembled nothing of his usual slicked and polished style; his chest rose and fell with heavy breaths as if he was recovering from a marathon. That is to say nothing of the pearly fluid which now dripped from his inner thighs to collect in dribs and drabs on the mattress.

'Oh, Jeeves,' Bertie whispered, kissing the nearest piece of Jeeves he could reach. His stomach, it turned out. It fluttered under his lips pleasingly, as if it and all the rest of Jeeves was too sensitive after his exertions.

Bertie grinned happily and moved to slip off the bed, but Jeeves' hand clamped round his wrist and kept him there.

'You would leave now, sir?' he asked, his voice reproachful and his eyes filled with sorrow, noticeable even in the dark.

'Well, can't very well sleep here, what?' Bertie said, puzzled.

Jeeves' fingers fell away, and the man turned over on his side. The bed squeaked at the motion. 'I see,' he said softly.

Bertie reached out to shake Jeeves' shoulder. 'Aren't you coming with me?'

Jeeves rolled back over to face him. 'With you, sir?'

'To my bed. Yours is all...sticky.' Bertie gestured to the messy sheets. 'My fault, I'm afraid.'

Jeeves sat up and kissed Bertie much like he had the first time, slow and exploratory. From one corner of Bertie's mouth to the other. 'I must stop doubting you, sir,' he whispered when he was finished. 'If you say you can love me, and you accept my love for you, then I must believe it, no matter how wondrous and impossible.'

'Oh, you didn't think I was just going to toddle off without so much as a "good night," did you?' Bertie raked a hand through tousled black hair, making it even more so. 'No, Jeeves. You're stuck with me, as I'm stuck with you. I don't want to hear any more of this doubting business.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Now.' Bertie rubbed his hands together with ill-concealed glee. 'You said something about falling asleep with yours truly ensconced in your arms?'

'I did, sir.'

'Well, let's get to the ensconcing, then.' And Bertie lent Jeeves a hand to pull him to his feet, and together, they walked down the hall to the master bedroom, leaving piles of clothes behind them.

fin.

[You can also download this as a PDF here.](http://www.sendspace.com/file/c9wfpq)

[Or you can download the podfic here.](http://rapidshare.com/files/148214255/jeevesandtheuncomfortablemorning.mp3.html)

Both these treasures are from the lovely [](http://favoritedarknes.livejournal.com/profile)[**favoritedarknes**](http://favoritedarknes.livejournal.com/).


End file.
